


Feeling Blue

by PhlamingFeonix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blue Moon, Fluff and Angst, Halloween, Hurt/Comfort, Husbands, Implied/Referenced Character Death, M/M, Modern Era, Old Married Couple, Werewolf Remus Lupin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-10-29
Packaged: 2021-03-08 20:08:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27202249
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PhlamingFeonix/pseuds/PhlamingFeonix
Summary: It's been an awfully long time since Remus has felt this down going into a full moon - a whole host of things make him worry about it. Sirius is there to comfort him and get them through it together, as he's been doing for many years now.Featuring a lot of reminiscing about the past, and some sad themes.
Relationships: Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 2
Kudos: 7





	Feeling Blue

**Author's Note:**

> I just couldn't resist the opportunity of having a full moon on Halloween this year, so enjoy this partly sad, partly fluffy fic I wrote.

It was the perfect storm. The 31st of October 2020 would be a full moon, and Remus Lupin had been trying to put it out of his mind for months. Though the potion he’d been drinking throughout the week would keep him sane for most of it, the transformation would still be uncomfortable (to say the least) and even in a drugged state and with Padfoot to distract him, it would be impossible to stop his mind whirring away on past sorrows.

For a start, blue moons had always been the worst. Even during their adventures as Animagi at Hogwarts, the blue moons had been the ones he looked forward to the least. In spite of it being the same distance apart as any of the other fulls, there was a psychological aspect of looking at the calendar in the dorm room with the phases of the moon marked (purely for the purposes of Astronomy lessons, should any inquisitive folks be poking their nose around) and seeing two large red circles on one page. There was one thing having animals as friends couldn’t help Remus with: the pain of the physical transformation itself. To feel his bones cracking apart and melding together again in a lupine form; his muscles tearing and reknitting themselves; the agonising headache as the conscious part of his brain gave way to something altogether wilder, more _feral_. In comparison to the swift, painless (at least according to Sirius) transformation of the others, it was brutal. Really it was a wonder Remus didn’t get jealous more frequently.

Then there was the fact that at the ripe old age of 60, Remus Lupin was officially the longest living werewolf in recorded wizarding history. Thanks in large part to his three friends throughout his late pubescent years, when the raging hormones of teenage adolescence can often lead to increased levels of self-destruction for those who are contained, he was able to make it through Hogwarts relatively unscathed. Indeed if his relative good fortune had continued into his 20s, Remus would be in a much better position. As it was, 12 years of abject poverty—what with struggling to find enough food to eat and money to pay the bills and jobs that wouldn’t instantly fire him—had left him feeling (and looking) significantly worse for the wear. However, owing to the generous Albus Dumbledore (as well as the deep coffers of the Hogwarts endowment fund), it was at Hogwarts once again where he was able to control the wolf, with his first taste of Wolfsbane Potion. It had, at least, allowed him to curl up in his office without the bloodthirsty need to tear the heads off any of the students.

After the death of Albus, it had been the Black family’s seemingly infinite funds that kept the potions flowing after the end of the second wizarding war. Despite Sirius’ assurances that he would do anything for his husband, it would take many years before Remus could begin to stop feeling so guilty about taking it. To be fair, Sirius had been trying hard to make up for generations of exploitation, hatred and outright crime—to the extent that most of the Black’s estate and fortune had been sold off to pursue efforts in programs supporting Muggle-born witches and wizards, lobbying for improved rights for minorities in the wizarding world and producing industrial quantities of Wolfsbane Potion to be given for free to werewolves around the country looking for it.

Sirius Black himself was looking a little worse for the wear as well. Though he was expected to outlive his partner, it was practically certain he wouldn’t make it to see 100. Wizarding Medicine had kept advancing, and average life expectancy at this point was around 150 years old, but there was only so much to be done for someone who had spent 12 years of the prime of their life rotting away in a dark cell chronically undernourished, sleep-deprived and depressed. A childhood of abuse and loneliness could hardly help either. Of course this was all disregarding the two wars he’d fought through, not to mention the terrifyingly high number of near-death experiences. Remus still had the occasional nightmare about the closest miss yet: Struck by a curse at the hands of Bellatrix Lestrange in the battle at the Ministry of Magic that took place a quarter of a century earlier. He’d survived it—but barely—collapsing to the ground next to ‘The Veil’ and being rushed to a Healer specializing in Dark curses as soon as possible. All these factors culminated in their General Healer at the preventative care department in St Mungo’s to have an almost permanent face of mild concern whenever they visited.

Finally, this moon happened to fall on Halloween night. Since he was 5 years old and forced to isolate even more than usual from the children his age, Halloween had been Remus’ least favourite time of the year. For some reason innocent children dressing up as werewolves and posing as scary monsters didn’t seem so fun when it reminded you of being locked in your parents cellar, forced to try and gouge yourself free from the shackles put there to protect others from you. Go figure.

But there was a more poignant reason too: it had been tradition since Harry left school that they would all go to Godric’s Hollow together to honour the memory James and Lily, and indeed all the casualties of both wars. Originally it was a tradition started years ago by Remus, back when he was under the impression that all of his friends were either murderers or dead. Maybe it was just a way to escape from his reality and reminisce on the happy times the Marauders had shared together. Since then however, the congregation had grown to include a whole host of others. Sirius, naturally, and Harry and Ginny came, leaving the kids with one of their many uncles/aunts/grandparents/cousins. Ron and Hermione usually came too, and when he was old enough, they invited Teddy along as well, to understand what his fathers fought for and what they had lost.

It was simultaneously Remus’ greatest regret and proudest moment when Teddy was born. Regret because it was almost an unthinkable act – bringing a new life into such a dark and dangerous world. He shuddered to think what could’ve happened when he and Sirius went off to fight with the Order at Hogwarts. Tonks too, their chosen surrogate mother (on the basis that Andromeda, Sirius’ favourite cousin, would surely have passed on the limited selection of genes from the Black family that didn’t come with a pureblood superiority complex or an affection for the Dark Arts), had accompanied them to leave baby Teddy under the care of his grandmother. If it was possible to be more motivated not to die, certainly Teddy would have been the push they needed to fuel their rage and after years of working together during the first war, Remus and Sirius had fallen into a natural rhythm of duelling. Both Antonin Dolohov and Rodolphus Lestrange didn’t have a chance to regret joining the wrong side of the history books that day.

Never on the first of those lonely nights when he stood staring at the white marble gravestone of two of his closest friends did Remus think he would learn to love again; to have a family again; to live again.

“Sickle for your thoughts?”

The voice interrupted Remus’ musing and he turned his head from gazing out the window at the large wooded enclosure where Firewings and Witherbolt (the children of Buckbeak) were kept to face his husband with a grateful smile.

“I’m sure you can take a pretty good guess…” he replied softly.

Sirius sighed and sat down next to him on the old sofa. He noted with approval how well it was holding up—he’d expected to have to use a Reparo on most things at this point, but all of their furniture was bought from a high-quality manufacturer over 20 years ago when they moved in. They could’ve just looted the stuff from Grimmauld Place, but there were still too many dark memories of that house for him to ever allow it – not to mention the litany of cursed objects that still probably lingered despite all their cleaning efforts.

The house itself was light and airy, with the occasional Gryffindor Pride banner hung up around the place, in stark contrast to Grimmauld Place (with good reason). Painted in white and pale blue, in some ways it was reminiscent of the simple seaside cottage that Remus’ family used to live in; Sirius had visited them there a couple of times and was always struck by how refreshing it was. Nevertheless, with the sky outside rapidly darkening as the night drew closer, only the soft glow from the jars of flickering flames they kept strung up around the room provided any source of light whatsoever, giving the room a relaxed glow.

“It’ll be okay,” Sirius said soothingly, “You’ve taken your Wolfsbane, I’ll be right here with you as Padfoot too – we can get nice and cosy on the couch together and cuddle until we fall asleep.”

Remus nodded silently, sighing inside his head. He remembered fondly the adventures they used to have in the Forbidden Forest: chasing rabbits and then fleeing from the centaurs; discovering that beautiful spot with the waterfall and the small pond they could splash around in; just running for hours and hours on end, leaving the stag and the rat far behind until it was just the two of them, then pouncing on each other, rolling over and over in the long grass until they came to a stop, tongues lolling and tails wagging… They still sometimes transformed together outside like that—there were designated safe spaces in a couple of the larger forests around the country now, with repelling charms set to renew every full moon on every inch of the boundary to make sure no Muggles (or witches or wizards) accidentally wandered in—but these trips were becoming far less frequent as the years wore on and their bodies grew wearier.

“And we’ll see Harry and the others tomorrow; we agreed to have dinner with them remember, if you’re feeling up to it of course?” He continued. “Teddy’s still got a few more days off too, so he and Victoire were going to stay overnight? They can have the main guest room.”

Once again, Remus nodded. It would be nice to see their son again. His work designing habitats for protected magical creatures had taken him all over the world throughout the last few years but after a particularly gruelling trip to central America he’d come back to his flat with Victoire on one of the roads off Diagon Alley and spent a few weeks recuperating and seeing friends and family. Sometimes, though Remus couldn’t help but feel reminded of the lost years in his life. It wasn’t exactly typical for your godson to be the godfather of your child after all. And while Teddy was older than almost all of “the new generation” (as they were often referred to—those who couldn’t remember either war) he was still only a few years older than James Potter II, or Rose Weasley.

Remus groaned as he got up, reaching out a hand to steady himself on the arm of the sofa. Casting a quick glance out the window at the rapidly approaching darkness, he started to shrug off his clothes so they wouldn’t tear when he transformed. After placing them carefully along with his wand in one of the cupboards he reached for the final dose of this months’ Wolfsbane and downed it in one with a grimace. The taste hadn’t gotten any better over the years. Out of the corner of his eye he caught sight of Sirius magically locking the door, placing soundproofing and shielding wards on the windows and shifting some of the furniture towards the walls to give Remus a little more floor space to transform. It was a rhythm they had fallen into over many years and they executed the routine like clockwork. Sirius stepped up behind his husband and reached up to massage his shoulders. Remus sighed, sinking into the feeling and dragged them both down onto the couch, pressing his back up against his lover’s chest. He could feel Sirius peppering light kisses to the back of his neck and he hummed in contentment, settling back even further, as the first tell-tale cramp embraced his torso. Quickly he shifted around to look at Sirius’ eyes and leant in for a tender kiss, letting him feel human for a few moments longer.

“It’s time, Pads.”

He smiled with an adoring gaze. “I’ll see you in the morning, love,” and in the blink of an eye he was gone and replaced with a large shaggy black dog, a permanent playful grin plastered across his canine face.

By all accounts it was a fairly ordinary moon once they got into things: a fair bit of fluffy canine cuddling; a little bit of play-fighting in the middle—rolling around on the floor and chasing each other’s tails—and then a nap all curled up together on the sofa, flanks heaving and snouts nuzzled against each other’s necks. Once in wolf form, Remus couldn’t think about the fact it was the second time this month, nor the loss and pain he associated with the holiday. Only subconsciously did he realise he felt far more tired than he used to, and any bruises he got might be felt more painfully in the morning. Fortunately, while no new advances had been made in improving the Wolfsbane Potion directly, after-moon care was now significantly better understood, with specifically designed recovery and replenishing potions and a range of stretches to help ease the pain of transforming in the first place.

The next day it was already late afternoon by the time he woke up. Sirius had stayed with him, of course, aside from getting up to collect Remus’ wand, clothes, and healing potions which were on the table next to him. He smiled softly when he felt his husband stirring beside him, reaching over to brush the grey hair out of his eyes. “Morning Moony,” he murmured. “How’re you feeling?”

“Just peachy thanks.” A common joke of theirs. Sirius reached out to grab the potions and gently lifted them up to the other’s lips – one to aid recovery of any injuries (though they were usually fairly careful to avoid that), one mild Draught of Peace to help any aches or pains, and one Pepperup Potion to give him a boost of energy for a few hours. Remus always thought of Madam Pomfrey whenever he was taking potions—though it had been many years he still always associated her with waking up after transformations. Even when he was teaching at Hogwarts, he’d still go and visit her to make sure he was recovering alright.

“Family’s coming round in about an hour—you still sure you’ll be able to stay awake?”

He grunted, pushing himself up and sitting against the end of the sofa, which had now been transfigured to look more like a bed. “Yeah, it’ll be nice—what’re we having?”

“I was thinking fish and chips. With the special Lupin Chocolate Tart for afterwards of course.”

“Of course.”

He smiled, the corners of his eyes crinkling into lines that had formed far too early. The Lupin Chocolate Tart was yet another reference to their times as Marauders. Remus had had an insatiable sweet tooth, and as such had found a way to convince the house-elves to bake him a special chocolate tart with some of Honeydukes’ finest. Since obtaining the recipe, it had been practised and refined upon until it was almost everybody in the Order’s favourite dessert. James and Lily had even insisted on having some at their wedding.

They would’ve been pleased, from wherever they were watching him from, Remus thought to himself. Lily—kind, sweet, caring, smart, ferocious Lily—who had been there for him when no-one else was. After the prank had torn a hole in the Marauders so large he had never thought it might be repaired, she had been there at one of the lowest points of his life. It took a long time to learn to trust Sirius after that. Perhaps even when they were together after Hogwarts, there was still some small part of him which hadn’t forgotten. Perhaps it should never have been possible for Peter to tear them apart as easily as he had done. And James—incredible, supportive, open-hearted, mischievous, courageous James—who had been then first of the Marauders to welcome him—undeniably at that point a weak and boring nerd—into the group. The first to tell him they would always be there, no matter his condition. And the last person to be suspicious during the war, when tensions were running high and other friendships were being broken. They would be proud of him for recovering; for finding a loving and supportive family; for being there for Sirius; for making Teddy simultaneously one of the cheekiest troublemakers and most well-respected students at Hogwarts. For learning to live again, even when he was feeling blue.

Things weren’t perfect, but right now he was feeling surprisingly comfortable after what could’ve been a particularly nasty moon. Tonight he’d be with the three most important people in his life. He hadn’t had cause to worry about the Ministry, or Voldemort, or Fenrir in over two decades. A faint smile curving his lips upwards, he gently swung his legs over the edge of the couch and made to get up.

“I suppose we should get started then.”

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! As always, any of your lovely comments are much appreciated and I wish you all a safe and happy Halloween.


End file.
